Girls In Dresses & Boys On Horses
by Sapphire Smoke
Summary: Cassie's organization tells a story.


**Title:** Girls In Dresses & Boys On Horses  
**Fandom:** Skins  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character(s)** Cassie  
**Setting:** During Series 1  
**Length:** 769 words  
**Summary:** Cassie's organization tells a story.  
**A/N:** First time writing a 'Skins' fanfic. Was rewatching part of series one and I just kind of got in the mood to write.

Organization. Color-coded, size related. Big, small… round, cylinder. Red, blue, brown, or white. Whispers of, "Yellow, the color of a lemon that life will give you." A smile, a light touch as delicate fingers reach into the bottle.

She holds the tiny capsule in her hand and peers at it closely, as if studying it. "You'll make everything better, yeah?" She smiles again as it talks back. Not really though, no. Just in theory. Pills don't actually talk, though if they did she was sure they would tell wonderful stories. Maybe of girls in dresses and boys on horses.

"Cass?"

Cassie's tiny hands wrapped around the pill and it falls to her side lightly as she looks up at her mother, who doesn't even register what her daughter is playing with. She smiles at her; she thinks she's such a sweet girl. A bit damaged, maybe a bit airy, but a beautiful wonderful girl. Cassie smiles up at her mother, a big grin.

"We're leaving now, you'll take care of yourself?" A pause, "Remember to eat?" More of a formality than a request. She's blissfully unaware most times of what's really going on. Too wrapped up in the baby and sex with the husband.

"Yes, mum," Cassie tells her, waving a bit. "Everything will be lovely." She fidgets on the bed a bit, almost in anticipation or possibly just from sitting too long. Maybe just to move. Moving is like a dance, even if you're not really dancing.

"Good, good…" Another smile, and then she's gone. Then they're gone. Then they're all gone. For a week, or maybe a day? What does it matter, anyway? She had organizing to do. Important business to attend to.

One, two, three… seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. Blue, Red… no, that wasn't right. "Red, blue…" she starts, staring at the pills she's lining up on her bed. She stops, confused, then remembers with a smile. "Red, blue, brown, white, and yellow." A giggle. "Lemons."

Forty five, forty six, forty seven… all in a row, all in the correct order. She looks down at her work of art and has the urge to take a photograph. She get's herself off her bed, the tiny stature and barely skin on bones, and picks up her Polaroid camera from off her desk.

She sits again, partly on one foot as she aims the camera carefully at her masterpiece, but pauses as she looks through the viewfinder. She puts the camera down, noticing something. She smiles as she picks up a half red, half white pill. "Girls in dresses. Wow," she says, realizing the story is being told in front of her. She lifts it up a bit higher, out of order from the others.

Her eyes scan the rest of the tiny capsules, but then her lips turn into a frown. "No boys on horses to come rescue the girl." So she picks up the red and white capsule again, the poor lonely girl, and looks at her carefully.

"No one is coming for you," she tells it in a voice of carefully chosen nonchalance, and smiles a bit as she places it on her tongue and swallows. Then a blue, a brown, a white, a yellow. Order, things must be kept in order or else chaos will break out in her bed sheets.

A bottle of vodka is found behind her bed, washing down the story. The story is told again, and again, and again, until there are no false hopes of boys on horses coming to rescue the girl. She smiled to herself, pushing her blonde hair out of her face and pushes herself carefully off of her bed. Her muscles are already starting to feel heavy, so she raises her arms towards the ceiling and twirls herself around before it's too late and she can't even do that.

"Galloping away," she says to the air. She closes her eyes, feeling a bit light headed and then suddenly she's on the ground. She laughs a bit. "Wow," passes lightly between her lips as she stares at the ceiling. "Lovely," is the last thing to be spoken before she starts getting too tiered to move her lips.

An echo of a sound in the distance. Feeling hands on her body, on her face. Slapping her, trying to make her wake. "Cassie? Cassie? Shit, what have you done now?" Jal, being Jal. She was supposed to come over, Cassie had forgotten.

She's being moved now, maybe someplace far away. As it blackens she hopes that it's someplace with girls in dresses… and boys on horses that save them.


End file.
